Living in a fiction

I lost myself in a new world today. Filled with bursting, thrilling and french-kissing-sore-lips love. How you can feel it in every vein, a longing, a tickling sensation over your skin. When you close your eyes, it’s there, lost in your mind.

I was lost in my mind for five hours. And then reality struck with the harshness of an email. A stomach-turned-inside-out-pain kind of email. I don’t want it anymore. Please stop. It’s too much. I want to jump right back into my crazy love story.

A fiction I paste onto my own life. A fiction I dream about. A fiction I want to be my reality. I’ve so many times started and never finished to tell our love story. The whirlwind we were. The pain we felt. The craziness we throw at each other. The wanting, needing, the unstoppable sensation when you touched my skin. How I still feel your lips. How you changed my world. How we destroyed our lives with lies, drugs and deliberately caused pain.

How, after all this time, my heart skips a beat every time I lay my eyes on you.

I’ve tried to tell our story. I’ve failed every time. Perhaps one day. It’s a love story like no one else.

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